


Etchings of His Past

by FreyReh



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Captain Canary, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyReh/pseuds/FreyReh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prequel to 'Down Time': Len takes a hit for Sara, and she patches him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etchings of His Past

note: prequel to ‘ _Down Time’_ which can be read **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6157987)**  
dis: i don’t own LOT  
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[ _http://captaincanaryawards.tumblr.com/_ ](http://captaincanaryawards.tumblr.com/)

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“Sit,” she ordered, making him scowl as he sat down on the little stool. She was going through some drawers while he held a hand against his arm. He’d been sliced with a large piece of glass and it hurt like hell. Blood was seeping through his shirt and ruined jacket and staining his fingertips but he refused to acknowledge how serious it was. 

“It’s no big deal, Assassin, I can handle this.”

“Take off your shirt.”

“I said I can handle this,” he said, his voice turning chilly. Gone was the teasing drawl and in its place was frigid authority. Sara turned toward him, her face stony while narrowing her gaze at him with a needle and thread in her hands.

“You took a hit that was meant for me, got kicked through a glass window, and are lucky that there was a balcony there instead of a five story drop. Just stop being a stubborn ass for once and let me help!”

They stared at each other for a good thirty seconds. He wanted to be stubborn but he was still bleeding and the damn woman would probably stick around until the blood loss made him pass out. Today of all days Gideon had to be offline in the damn med bay due to some update hiccup. He was lucky it wasn’t something more serious but he still didn’t want Sara to see what lay beneath his shirt. Didn’t want her to see his messed up past etched in his skin that dated as far back as he could remember. 

“Close the door,” he said finally. “Don’t let anyone else in.”

Instead of asking why she just did it while he eased his jacket off. He winced as the skin of his shoulder pulled. He yanked off his shirt as well, tossing it down to the floor, then stared at her fiercely as if daring her to say something. 

She didn’t.

Instead she focused on the long gash in his arm. She used a delicate touch while cleaning it before pinching the skin together and stitching it. He winced with each pull of the needle and stitches that would dissolve with time. What he didn’t know was that Sara was fighting her own battle. He had more scars than she ever did. Cigarette burns dotted over and around his left shoulder and slashes varying in size and depth were found on his back. Including a nasty one that curved around his ribs. The scars were old but still prominent on his body. She now knew why he’d been so aggressive in his desire for her to leave. Why he was still so tense as she patched him up. When she finished stitching she grabbed the cloth she’d dampened to wipe the area clean. 

“Sit tight a little longer,” she said, going to the sink to wash her hands. Her fingers still were stained lightly with red from his blood but she dried her hands before grabbing some dry gauze. She walked back, easing it around his arm and tucking it into place before trailing her fingertips over his much-too-scarred shoulder. “All done.”

She wasn’t sure why she did it. He’d just been so damn sad and angry and she’d wanted to assure him that the scars hadn’t changed anything between them. That she hadn’t lost any form of respect or care for him. He’d tensed even more as she bent to press her lips to his cheek. His hands clenched against his pants as her lips slid to his. There was no heat or pressure, just a gentle press before she pulled away. His eyes were wide now, looking at her in such wonder it made her heart beat just a little faster than normal. 

“What was that for?” he asked, almost sounding suspicious, but sounding breathless all the same. 

“No reason,” said Sara. “I’ll leave you be, now.”

She turned and walked away, unsure about what her kiss would do to their relationship. That night she’d been in her room, waiting for him to come find her but he never did. She lay awake in bed, wondering if she’d ruined everything that they’d built in their friendship with that kiss, not knowing he’d been standing outside her door and trying to ruck up the courage to enter. It wouldn’t be until the next day, after she’d beaten the crap out of the punching bag, that he’d find her. 

She was sweaty, had bits of her hair flying out of its ponytail, and a heated flush to her cheeks and neck that had his mouth going dry. He’d taken her hand before she could enter her room fully and pulled her toward him before slanting his mouth over hers. Her salty scent entranced him as he pulled her in against him and she’d sighed into the kiss. He ended the kiss with a small nip to her bottom lip that had her gasping and slowly opening her eyes to meet his intense stare. 

“I’m sorry for being an ass.” He brought a hand up to cup her face, thumb almost lovingly caressing her heated cheek. “Can I come in?”

Her fingers wrapped around the fabric of his leather jacket before pulling him inside her room, the door closing behind them. 


End file.
